


Until We Meet Again

by GiganticBearLemonade14



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is a Storyteller, Gen, Hobbits are fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiganticBearLemonade14/pseuds/GiganticBearLemonade14
Summary: On the road, Bilbo tells the company the story of the tree-wives who were lost to their husbands in the west and how they hope to find them again.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Bofur, Bilbo Baggins & Gandalf | Mithrandir, Bilbo Baggins & Ori
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Until We Meet Again

Naturally, Bofur was the first to warm to his burglar.

Almost immediately it became wont for the hobbit to be seated next to either him or Gandalf while riding, or sitting around the campfire while Bofur whittled the odd piece of wood into the shapes of animals (horses or birds and occasionally, if he was feeling ambitious, an oliphaunt). Bilbo Baggins may not have been as outspoken as the dwarf, but Bofur had long ago mastered the art of managing a conversation while his hands were busy, and Mr Baggins at least seemed to hold no grudge against him for his ‘furnace with wings’ comment, so it was easy for them to grow comfortable around each other.

By extension the hobbit soon become friendly with Bifur and Bombur, though Gandalf did not realise how close until one night when he saw Bifur and Bilbo Baggins sitting together, eating their way through a bunch of yellow flowers as if it were an entirely normal practice. It was actually quite normal for hobbits to eat flowers and plants fresh from the earth, Bilbo explained to Kili, when he asked. Their favourites were mushrooms, but they could substitute on anything that came from the earth with no ill effects. Quite a useful skill in the wild, Gandalf thought privately to himself.

Bilbo then made a point to warn Kili to please check with him before eating anything that he himself ate. They found out why the very next night, when the berries Master Baggins was munching on turned out to be belladonna.

“Deadly nightshade,” explained the hobbit, which even dwarves, who were usually unfamiliar with Yavanna’s lore, knew not to eat.

Fortunately, Kili had no reservations when it came to asking Bilbo questions. Nor did his brother. Gandalf listened, quietly proud of the young princes’ eagerness for knowledge, as Bilbo Baggins politely answered all of their questions.

“No, we don't eat grass. It's very hard to chew and digest and it causes a lot of damage to our teeth.”

“No, hobbits don’t spring out of holes in the ground. Yes, we live in holes in the ground, but we are born from our mothers. How? Well, in the usual way, I presume.”

“No, we can‘t spin straw into mithril. Where in Arda did you hear that?”

After a week or so of hanging back, Ori - who one might have pinned as the most introverted of the group - soon joined in. His thirst for knowledge awakened, he became almost more inquisitive than Kili and it soon became commonplace to find him seated next to Bifur on Bilbo’s other side so he could talk to the hobbit.

His brothers didn’t seem to mind Ori not sitting with them - though Dori looked faintly disapproving at times. Gandalf was rather amused when he noticed that many of the elder dwarrow who had grown up in Erebor, though they did not ask questions themselves, listened with poorly-feigned disinterest when Bilbo answered them, even Thorin and Dwalin. Far in the east, where the Lonely Mountain hailed from, halflings or ‘hobs’ - like wights and river-daughters and tree-spirits - were not thought to exist outside of folk tales. But Eriador was a strange land, particularly around the Shire. A strange land full of strange creatures, thought the wizard to himself.

Ori and Bofur and Bilbo were all now exchanging stories, the talk shifting to tales of the lone-lands. Ori was leaning across Bilbo, telling an increasingly lost Bofur all about the fall of the kingdom of Arnor and trying to explain how it tied in with the story of the Barrow-Downs.

“Ah, well, everybody knows about the Downs.” shrugged Bofur, puffing on his pipe. There was a mischievous edge to his smile. “Have ye heard what they say about the forest?”

Bombur was on Gandalf’s right, delicately sipping from his cauldron of stew to see if it was hot enough yet. Dori and Nori were on the wizard’s left; Nori further back than his brother, so that the brightest part of him was the gleam of his red hair in the firelight. Those of Durin’s line were loosely grouped together, brothers sitting in pairs, except for Thorin, who stood leaning against the trunk of a tree behind his nephews, detached from the circle around the campfire. His face was half in shadow but Gandalf thought that he was listening to what was being said.

Fili and Kili were listening too. They were sitting directly opposite Ori, Bilbo and Bofur’s little group.

“The Old Forest?” said Kili.

Ori looked wary. “What about the forest?” he asked, glancing between Bofur and Kili, uncertain whether he should take the prince’s interest seriously or not.

“Are the stories about it true?” asked Kili.

“Oh, aye,” said Bofur cheerily, a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Full of ghosts and wights and all manner of queer things that shift the paths around so travellers can get lost. And if you’re not watching where you’re going, the earth slips out from right under yer feet and drags ye under it. Plenty o’ folk that go in there never return.”

“Is it really haunted?” Fili asked.

“No,” said Bilbo unexpectedly, with such conviction in his voice that even though he did not speak very loud, he drew all three dwarves’ attention. He removed his own pipe from his lips and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. It glowed whitely in the dark. “There are no wolves or goblins or things of that sort in the Old forest.” he said “It is not cursed or haunted, it is Old. The forest is just trees, old trees that are very different from most others. They remember when the forest covered all of middle-earth and they are angry that they have been so reduced.”

He paused for a moment, then said, “There is a forest at the eastern bank of the Misty Mountains that is all but abandoned, wild and hostile. Folk say it is cursed or haunted.”

Bifur, on Ori’s other side, lying back quietly staring at the sky, said something.

“Aye, ye mean Fangorn Forest.” translated Bofur.

Bilbo nodded. “The Old Forest is not like that.” he said “The Bree-folk say it has grown. They say that long ago it was a forest on the other side of the mountain that picked up its roots and walked west until it found the Shire.”

“What d’you mean ‘walked?’” asked Ori, shifting in his seat so he was facing the hobbit. On his other side Bofur was also turned in towards the hobbit, head tilted in interest. The miner hadn’t heard this story before.

“I mean,” said Bilbo “That there was once a forest on the other side of the Misty Mountains. Or should I say, a forest that strayed from the forest, made up of trees that could walk and talk. The tree-men didn’t like to venture very far from their home but the tree-women were more adventurous; they wandered away from their husbands and found a Green Land where they lingered for many years and grew all manner of fruits and grains and taught their craft to any who sought their knowledge. For a long time they were happy. But one day something happened - a great darkness came over the Green Land - and all the gardens were burned until all that was left was a brown, barren desert.”

Over Fili and Kili’s shoulders, the dark shape of Thorin Oakenshield was unnaturally still. His face was only minutely inclined towards the camp - in the shadows one would not have thought he was looking at the hobbit at all - but Gandalf knew he could hear the hobbit perfectly.

Gandalf could also see Balin and Dwalin’s faces in the glow of the gentle fire from the camp. Like Thorin, he knew that they were not thinking of gardens right at that moment.

“The tree-wives fled away,” said Bilbo “To a small sanctuary between the Green Woods and the Misty Mountains, and there they stayed for some time. But soon enough the darkness came after them. It poisoned the forests that could have protected them. The tree-wives could not make their way back to their husbands. It was no longer safe for them to stay in the East, so they sought safety elsewhere.

For a long time they wandered, further than any tree-wife had ever wandered outside of the forest before. They waded through rivers, and climbed up and down the mountains, and walked through downlands and fields until finally, finally they found the Old Forest.

And ever since that day the forest has changed, they say. It is bigger than it once was; big enough to enclose the Shire in one enormous ring. The trees don’t like strangers. They watch everybody who goes in and everybody who goes out. While daylight lasts, they are usually content to let folk pass through, but after dark they become much bolder; quite wild. They are not afraid of the dark, or fire, or of being cut down anymore, for there is an older power that lives somewhere inside those trees, one that knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless. After dark is when the edge of the forest draws close. So many used to wander in and become lost, that the Bree-folk petitioned a hedge to be grown where the gap was thinnest and since then, I must say, the number of accidents on the road has considerably decreased. And there the tree-wives reside, waiting for their husbands to find them. For as long as it takes.”

Bilbo Baggins finished his tale and realised that everybody was staring at him.

“Well, that’s the story.” he said mildly.

Bombur on Gandalf’s right had stopped midway through tasting his stew with a ladle halfway to his mouth. Dori, on his other side, was sitting straight up with his mouth slightly open. Over Fili and Kili’s shoulders, Thorin Oakenshield had turned ever so slightly to look at the hobbit.

“Now, where did you hear that story, Bilbo Baggins?” Gandalf said, raising his bushy eyebrows.

“Here and there.” said the hobbit mildly. “My parents taught me the song they sing to one another, the tree-wives and their husbands, but how it goes, I can’t quite recall…”

Bilbo leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee, puffing wisps of smoke thoughtfully as he tried to remember, not seeming to notice all the eyes still watching him. It was a while before the silence was broken and Gandalf did not break it himself. He was thinking that for as long as he could remember there had been a ring of trees surrounding the Shire and only one road that went all the way in and out of it. It was a simple, straightforward route. Yet many, many people got lost on it and had to ask for directions while travelling through. The High Hay ran parallel to the road from the Bridge to Bree for a good twenty miles, acting as windbreak where the woods was oldest and thickest. But in other places the trees were so thin passers-by could see right through to the inside and some nights, especially summer nights, they would say that they had seen shapes; some small, some impossibly tall, moving, walking, alone or side-by-side.

Perhaps, mused Gandalf, it was not a good idea to have told a story about walking trees while they were camped in the middle of a wood after dark. Never at home in a forest and already listening out for wolves or roving orcs, the company of dwarrow were beginning to edge closer to the fire, shifting out from under the shadow of the trees surrounding them. When the fire snapped, Glóin actually twitched, looking over his shoulder. His brother had his ear trumpet canted into the air around them, as if listening for the tread of a treelike foot.

When Bilbo Baggins broke the silence, more than one dwarf jumped a little.

“I remember now!” he said “I can’t remember all of the words exactly but I believe it goes something like;

_When Winter comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last;  
When broken is the barren bough, and light and labour past;  
When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain  
I'll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again  
Together we will take the road, though wind be in the West  
And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest._

I’m not sure I have it all in the right order.” he admitted “But they say that the tree-wives will sing it for as long as it take to find their husbands again.”

But songs, like trees, bore fruit only in their own time and their own way, and sometimes they were withered untimely, thought Gandalf.

“Trees that can walk and talk…” shuddered Glóin “Not sure I like the idea o’ that.” He chuckled uncomfortably.

There was an agreeing murmur around the camp.

“Well, I think it’s a good one.” said Bofur, regaining some of his easy cheer. “Almost like those signs ye were telling us about… what was it?… ‘when thrush knocks on the door on the last light of Durin’s day.’”

“‘When broken is the barren bough…’” said Balin softly, as talk began to resume, albeit slightly more subdued than before.

 _'When wind is in the deadly east,'_ thought Thorin Oakenshield, as a wind blew over the camp, making the leaves on the trees around them shake. He turned into it.

The wind was blowing from the east.

**Author's Note:**

> The flowers that Bilbo and Bifur were eating were dandelions, if you were curious. And they are safe to eat.  
> The lyrics of the Entwives song are taken straight from J.R.R Tolkien's poem (which I like a lot) but Bilbo only sings one verse and in the wrong order. It felt strangely appropriate for Thorin, though I'm not sure if Tolkien intended it that way.  
> Gandalf's quote about songs bearing fruit is actually something Treebeard says to Merry and Pippin in The Two Towers.  
> rewritten 1.12.20


End file.
